


Coupe

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Come Eating, Comeplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Frottage, Humiliation, Light Bondage, M/M, Nipple Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7622356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t have breasts,” Ren says, quickly—but too quickly, his eyes darting away as he bites his lip. No wonder Ren wears the mask, Hux thinks. His face betrays him at every turn. </p><p>“Of course not,” Hux soothes, with more than a little sarcasm in his voice. “You couldn’t feed anyone with these. What you’ve got, Ren, is a nice pair of <em>tits</em>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coupe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the following prompt at tfa_kink](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/4613.html?thread=11213573#cmt11213573):
>
>> Kylo has big tits. And Hux doesn't. I need some Hux humiliating and mocking Kylo for his big tits, and maybe fucking them or wanking as he gropes them and then wiping his fingers on them.
> 
> I mean… [look at 'em.](http://eralkfang.tumblr.com/post/146850759870/hardyness-blessing-your-dash-with-this)

To General Hux, Kylo Ren is an exercise in excess.

He is excessive to the chain of command of the _Finalizer_. He is excessive in the raw, barely contained power that he wields so gracelessly. He is even excessive in his physical form—tall, broad, and _overwhelming_. 

In Hux’s eyes, it’s only the last that redeems him. He reflects on this as he straightens up, stepping away from his bed to admire his handiwork. 

Against Hux’s black sheets, Ren’s great, naked body seems paler, marmoreal even, interrupted here and there by generous constellations of moles. One day, Hux is going to connect them all, in order to divine what this particular overabundance of Ren’s means. 

Even in repose, Ren overreaches, heavy legs sprawled carelessly over the soft topography of Hux’s bed. His arms are pinned above his head, resting against the mattress, wrists bound together by a rather clever freighter’s knot, if Hux may say so himself. Personal adornments are kept to a minimum in the First Order, which means that even General Hux’s bed lacks a headboard. No matter—Hux has tied the rope to the underside of his bed. It’s probably better for Ren’s shoulders, anyway. 

It’s by no means the decadent four-poster bed he sometimes fantasizes about having—something he could truss Ren to in positions that would make even his powerful limbs tremble. But it will do for now. They haven’t been at this long. There will be time enough for that later. After the debut of Starkiller Base.

Hux takes one final look at the appealing visual before him, hands on his bared hips, before getting onto the bed himself. He summits Ren, slotting their hips together. The position brings their soft, stirring cocks into contact. Hux clicks his tongue lazily. Ren strains his neck up at the contact, openly staring down at where they meet, but the restraints keep him from lifting his shoulders.

It’s an illusion of restraint, of course. Ren is strong, both with the Force and without. He could unravel Hux’s careful bindings with a thought. He could buck Hux off of his body with just a twist of his hips. He could leave. 

But he _won’t_. Ren’s obedience was not easily acquired, nor is that obedience even perfect after being so hard-won. But it is not the quality of Ren’s obedience that thrills Hux to his core. Ren’s eager, near-desperate _willingness_ to submit to him despite his superior attributes is. 

Hux takes his time in examining the body below him. He feels Ren’s eyes, already glassy in the half-dark of his quarters, tear themselves away from his cock to search his face, but he doesn’t meet his gaze. 

The demands of the Dark Side on Ren’s body exempts him from rationing, and his missions for Supreme Leader often leaves his diet at the whims of whatever’s available. He is strong, stronger than any stormtrooper, stronger than anyone Hux has ever met—but without a diet engineered for aesthetics, there is, nonetheless, something soft to his musculature, as if he’s gotten so big that he’s _overflowing_ the lines of his body. 

And nowhere is that more evident than his chest. The contrast between their bodies titillates and fascinates Hux. His own pectoral muscles are slight and flat to his chest. As orderly and symmetrical as the rest of his body, if, perhaps, not as defined as they once were. And his nipples are small, circular, and neat, appropriately vestigial for a masculine mammal. 

Ren’s are decidedly not, Hux thinks, splaying his hands over Ren’s massive pectorals. Their great curves fit neatly into the palms of his hands as he cups them. Ren’s nipples are unruly, protruding—pinkish, despite his coloring, and nearly oval, as if sloppily rendered. They begin to peak against Hux’s palm just from his touch. 

Ren shifts beneath him, straining his head up to see what Hux is looking at. His eyes flicker to Hux’s face, but Hux notices it out of the periphery of his vision. He still doesn’t look at Ren.

“What are you doing?” Ren asks, after a moment, low voice rumbling through his chest, the sensation pleasant against Hux’s balls and stirring erection. 

“Are you familiar with the coupe glass, Ren?” Hux asks, knowing full well Ren is not. Ren shifts his head, which might be confirmation or might just be discomfort. Either is satisfactory for Hux. “It’s for sparkling wine—if you like it to flatten before you can finish your glass. Better for cocktails, in my opinion. In any case, legend tells that the original glass was molded off of the breast of the first Empress of the Galidraan system.”

Ren’s cock stirs against Hux’s. “Nothing so salacious as _that_ ,” Hux chides, nonetheless grinding one slow circle against Ren just to see his eyelids flicker. “Mother’s milk is venerated in Galidraan space as the font of all life. It makes perfect sense to celebrate by sipping sparkling wine from the breast of the Empress.” Hux trails the blade of his right hand along the drooping curve of Ren’s pectoral. “We could mold quite the coupe off of you, Lord Ren.” 

“I don’t have breasts,” Ren says, quickly—but too quickly, his eyes darting away as he bites his lip. No wonder Ren wears the mask, Hux thinks. His face betrays him at every turn. 

“Of course not,” Hux soothes, with more than a little sarcasm in his voice. “You couldn’t feed anyone with these. What you’ve got, Ren, is a nice pair of _tits_.” 

Ren swallows, grimacing a little, but Hux can feel him harden beneath him. Hux clicks his tongue, pressing his palms into Ren’s chest, digging the tips of his fingers as he gathers the strong, generous flesh. “ _Tits_ ,” he repeats, hissing, watching Ren’s face color.

Ren’s body is a stunning map of muscles and scars, but that makes Hux value the surprising spots of tenderness on his terrain all the more. He presses his thumbs against Ren’s nipples, rubbing soft but firm circles over them. He’s already a little hard from tying Ren down—from Ren being so _pliant_ for him—and he indulges himself further by occasionally grinding against Ren’s cock, making Ren’s face twitch and flutter in arousal. He watches, fascinated as always, as Ren’s nipples stiffen and swell under his machinations. 

“Look,” Hux says, clicking his tongue. “Your tits are so _perky_ , Ren.”

Ren squirms underneath him, cock pulsing once, drily, in the space between Hux’s thigh and Hux’s cock. “They are?” 

“Mmhmm,” Hux says, nodding, eyes still focused on his pinking, peaking nipples. “Even though they’re so _big_. No wonder you have to hide them under all those robes.” He stills his thumbs, tapping gently against the slightly soft curve of the flesh. “Do they chafe when you wear them? Do your robes chafe against your _tits_ , Ren?”

“Y-yes,” Ren says. He’s starting to blink faster. Hux smirks. It always reminds him of a droid losing control of its mechanisms, which is, in his opinion, quite an apt metaphor for how easy it is to take Ren apart like this. 

“I see,” Hux says, mock thoughtfully. “So that’s why you have to wear that little _shirt_ to train. I hate to tell you, Ren, it doesn’t leave anything to the imagination. It can barely contain you.” Hux cups Ren’s pectorals. “They bounce when you run, you know that? It’s _obscene_ ,” Hux hisses. He mimics the motion, shifting Ren’s pectorals up and down to make them bounce a little. Ren’s pendulous nipples are framed between Hux’s thumbs and index fingers. If he presses against Ren, the framed flesh bulges slightly, pushing his nipples out and up. They’re already starting to swell from Hux’s attentions, their borders tightening and pink skin darkening and puckering against the inclines of Ren’s erect nipples. Like this, Ren looks downright _buxom_. 

Hux’s mouth is suddenly too wet. He swallows. He presses a nipple between his thumb and his bent index finger and tugs—not sharply enough to hurt, but enough to make Ren gasp. He’s fully hard now, cock pressing a line of thick heat against Hux’s. Hux’s cock swells to full attention in response, and he rolls his hips to grind against Ren as he continues. “It’s a good thing you only wear it to train. If everyone could see your pretty tits poking through your shirt like that, _well_ …” Hux clicks his tongue for effect. 

“What?” Ren asks, breathless. He strains his head up, nearly tucking his chin into his neck. “What would they want to do to my…” To Hux’s delight, Ren’s words fail him as he looks down at his abused chest, pectorals practically _plump_ in Hux’s hands. Ren’s face has already started to color from the effort of trying not to strain too much at his restraints or reach out with the Force, but now the flush is spreading steadily down his neck from embarrassment—and, judging by how tenderly Ren bites his lower lip, _arousal_. 

A sympathetic wave of it hits Hux like a freighter, and his cock pulses wet against Ren’s. Ren hisses at the sensation, squeezing his eyes shut and twisting beneath Hux in a futile effort to find friction against Hux’s hip. Hux sits back a little, enough to give them both a little quick relief but more to keep Ren still. “Ah ah ah!” Hux chides, drumming his fingers against Ren’s chest and barely squeezing—just enough to feel the added swell rough usage has lent Ren’s chest. “Finish your sentence, Ren. Use your words.” 

Ren’s eyes shoot open and he worries his lip for a moment before saying, so quietly that Hux can barely make it out, “…what to do to my… _tits_?” 

The word is a short, sharp noise out of Ren’s mouth, all air and teeth, but its effect on Ren is immense—Hux feels Ren’s cock pulse so hard it almost _jerks_ against his. Hux hisses at the delicious sensation, but rises up on his thighs enough to part their flesh. He’s not ready to be done so soon.

Hux sniffs, steadying himself. “Touch them, of course. Get a good handful and _squeeze_ them.” He does so, and Ren bites back a groan, letting his great head fall back onto Hux’s pillow. “Grope them until until they’re all swollen and sore and you start begging them to touch you anywhere else, but they won’t.” Hux is practically kneading Ren’s chest like dough at this point, delighting in the way Ren is trying but failing to hold back his low, panting whines. When Hux eases off just enough to cup his pectorals and shift their weight in his hand, though, Ren _keens_.

“Just look at how _big_ your tits are,” Hux says, clicking his tongue again. “They’re so big I think I could _fuck_ them.” 

“Oh, _fuck, please_ ,” Ren hisses, tugging at his restraints as if he’s forgotten he can’t hold his tits together for Hux to do so. It’s a forceful enough movement that Hux is almost unseated. But Hux shakes his head, shuffling forward on his knees to sit nearly on Ren’s ribs. The sensation of sliding his cock against Ren’s sweating torso forces a faint moan out of Hux. _Stars_ , Hux thinks. He could rub up against any slick part of Ren and it would be enough. 

The thought gives him an idea. He drags his hand down his leaking cock, pulling moisture from the head down his shaft to ease his way. “I’m not going to fuck them, Ren,” Hux announces. “I’m going to come on them. I’m going to come all over your nice, big _tits_.”

Hux leans over Ren, using his left hand to press the slick, red head of his cock to Ren’s swollen right nipple, rubbing the stiff nub against his slit. Hux lets his eyes fall shut at the strange but satisfying sensation. Ren nearly _sobs_ , face twisting into an ugly grimace with anticipation, want, and _need_. “Yes,” Ren begins to beg. “Come on me, come on my chest—”

Hux clicks his tongue sharply. “Ask _properly_ ,” he demands. 

“Oh, _shit_!” Ren swears, the curse a rising, panicked noise. He pulls at the ropes again, trying to bury his burning face in the plush curve of his bicep. He could break through the restraints in a heartbeat, Force or no Force, but he _doesn’t_ , and the thought makes Hux’s cock pulse wet onto Ren’s nipple. Ren squeezes his eyes shut and pants, each word a gasp, “Come on my tits, Hux, _please_ …” 

Hux squeezes himself roughly with his left hand to keep himself from coming on the spot. He plants his right hand on Ren’s forehead, threading the tips of his fingers into his hair and balancing the heel of his palm on the curve of his brow. The point is to tilt Ren’s head back to further expose the powerful column of his throat, but in the heat of the moment Hux has forgotten—the man underneath him will take advantage of any opening he sees. 

The underside of Hux’s forearm rests lightly against Ren’s mouth, and his plush lips part on contact. He mouthes and licks at Hux’s skin as he rolls his hips against empty air. “Come on my tits,” he groans again, louder, clearer, his desperation outpacing his shame. 

It’s too much, and Hux obliges Ren, splattering his swollen right nipple with a few short, sure strokes. Ren strains his neck to stare down at it, face red, eyes fixed, mouth open. 

Hux sits back—he’d risen on his thighs a little to come on Ren—panting, recovering. Ren tenses and quivers beneath him, desperate to come. When Hux’s head begins to clear, he notices, dazedly, that Ren’s nipples don’t match. Almost without thinking, he reaches out with his right hand and smears his come over Ren’s chest, fingertips brushing against his left nipple. Hux squeezes the generous handful in his palm, and Ren gives a frustrated sob. “Hux, please, I have to come, I _need_ to come or I’ll—”

“You’re not going to die if you don’t come,” Hux says irritably, but it’s without heat, which makes it sound almost fond. He slides back on Ren’s sweaty stomach, nose wrinkling at the overstimulation. When he feels Ren’s thick, straining cock against the slight curve of his ass, Hux reaches back with his dry hand to part his asscheeks, letting Ren’s cock press a line of wet heat against his entire cleft. He hasn’t let Ren fuck him—not with that monstrous thing he calls a cock. Not _yet_ , at least. He will. But, for now, it’s a little easier to motivate Ren with the promise of things to come.

Groaning, Ren thrusts shallowly against Hux, and Hux lets him. Hux leans over a little to better rub his hole up and down a fraction against Ren’s cock, licking his lips a little at the sensation of wet heat against the nerves of his rim. 

Hux leans over farther to press back further, far enough that his breath ghosts over Ren’s swollen, come-wet nipples. Ren writhes under Hux, and Hux looks up to find Ren’s face screwed up in _need_. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” Ren curses, breathlessly. And, without any prompting: “ _Fuck_ , suck me, suck on my tits…”

Hux rewards his unusually good behavior by ducking his head down and greedily sucking the salt of his spend from Ren’s swollen nipple, until he can no longer taste his bitterness and only the sweat of Ren’s skin. _They fit so perfectly in my mouth_ , he thinks, lazily, as he switches nipples. Ren moans underneath him, thick cock leaking wet against Hux’s hole. It’s filthy enough to make Hux’s sated cock twitch weakly in interest. 

“Your nipples are so _sweet_ , Ren,” Hux says, barely lifting his head from Ren’s chest. “You _like_ it when I suck on your _tits_ , don’t you?” 

“Yes, yes,” Ren pants in a low, thin voice. “I like it when you suck on my—”

He gives a sob, twists in his restraints one last time, and comes. Some splatters across Hux’s lower back, but most of it hits his tailbone and drips down, trickling against Hux’s rim. Another time, he thinks, he’ll finger himself with that. 

Once Ren goes limp, Hux clambers off of him and the bed, wincing as he feels Ren’s come drip down to his thighs. He ducks into the refresher for a moment to wipe himself down, and then takes a fresh, damp washcloth with him.

Ren is still prone on Hux’s bed, looking particularly debauched. Hux kneels next to Ren’s body on the bed, wielding the washcloth awkwardly in his right hand. He notices that there’s still a smear of his own come on Ren’s clavicle. Hux swipes it off with his left thumb and presses it to Ren’s lips. Ren takes the slick digit into his mouth and sucks it clean without any apparent thought, making lazy, sated eye contact with Hux as he does so. 

_Progress_ , Hux thinks, something like pride swelling in his chest. 

Hux removes his hand from Ren’s face and wipes down his chest and cock, which is just as impressive soft as it is hard. He takes another pass at Ren’s chest for no reason other than to keep touching Ren’s glorious tits. He’s really quite fond of them. 

Ren orgasms the same way he does everything else—with maximum effort. Accordingly, his post-orgasmic state is one of near blissful pliability, which Hux has used to his advantage on more than one occasion. As Hux meets Ren’s seemingly drug-addled gaze, he feels the prideful feeling in his chest _tighten_ , for some reason. His hand comes to a halt over Ren’s chest. The feeling only gets worse when Ren’s full, grim lips threaten to curve upwards. 

“If they’re too sore in the morning,” Hux says, clearing his throat, “I have an ointment you can use.”

He startles a little when one of Ren’s big hands comes to rest on top of his own. He glances away from Ren’s face to find the red rope coiled demurely in his sheets, like a spent snake. “And then,” Ren says, deep voice rumbling out of his broad, abused chest and into Hux’s hand, “we’ll do it again.” 

Hux stares for a moment. “Insatiable,” he chides, eventually, but he smiles down approvingly at Ren’s exhausted, eager face all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> And now [illustrated by the ever-amazing kylostahp](http://kylostahp.tumblr.com/post/149404821117/the-underside-of-huxs-forearm-rests-lightly). Thank you ever so kindly, friend. <3


End file.
